


All Wound Up

by Marks



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-04
Updated: 2008-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-06 11:26:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marks/pseuds/Marks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It goes in phases: Ryan's relief at the break quickly seeps into annoyance with everything, a tightness around his mouth and across his shoulders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Wound Up

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: hands, mouth, tighter. This has rimming, if that bothers anyone.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |    
[bandom](http://marksykins.livejournal.com/tag/bandom), [brendon/ryan](http://marksykins.livejournal.com/tag/brendon/ryan), [fic](http://marksykins.livejournal.com/tag/fic), [panic at the disco](http://marksykins.livejournal.com/tag/panic+at+the+disco), [rated nc-17](http://marksykins.livejournal.com/tag/rated+nc-17)  
  
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+

Brendon will never mention it but he loves Ryan best when he's restless. It happens every time they're on break from touring and writing, whenever the band's just supposed to take it easy. Ryan can't.

It goes in phases: Ryan's relief at the break quickly seeps into annoyance with everything, a tightness around his mouth and across his shoulders. Ryan gets frustrated with sleep, with laying around his backyard, with tooling around on his pretty piano, with movies, video games, bars, casinos, even weed. And once Ryan is wound tight enough to pop, Brendon steps in to rest his head on Ryan's shoulder, to put his hand on Ryan's back, to say, "Hey, Ross. _Ross_. Chill." It's so cool watching Ryan melt under him.

Brendon likes being a tension-reliever as much as he likes being a source of tension, likes taking it when Ryan kisses him so hard his mouth will hurt for hours after, likes letting Ryan do whatever he wants. He steers them into his room, not wanting Shane to get an eyeful, stripping his shirt as he goes. Ryan kicks the door closed behind them just as Brendon gets his jeans off. He hasn't bothered with underwear, and seriously considering how low his jeans go, the surprised moan Ryan makes means he's either clueless or exaggerating.

Brendon's okay with it either way.

He's still okay with it when Ryan gets his ninety layers off and loops his arms around his neck, pressing them together from shoulder to hip. He's really, really okay with it when Ryan licks his way into Brendon's mouth, pushing his tongue deep inside until Brendon is making low, desperate sounds from the back of his throat and fluttering his hands at Ryan's sides. And when Ryan pulls back and says, rough and throaty, "Could you get on the bed? On your stomach?" then Brendon's just about the most okay he can be.

Ryan drapes himself over Brendon's body as soon as he's settled with his arms folded and head resting on his hands, Ryan's cock pressed against the base of Brendon's spine, just wet enough that Brendon can feel it trail across his skin. Ryan already feels less wound up than he had while they were cursing at MarioKart, his hands warm against Brendon's shoulders, his mouth pressed against the back of Brendon's neck.

"Thank you," Ryan mutters just loud enough for Brendon to hear as he starts licking his way down Brendon's back, repeating it at every vertebrae, and it's a little bit prayer and praise the whole way. Brendon's not immune to that and he moans loud and long when Ryan's thumbs spread him open and his tongue licks in between.

Brendon is kind of addicted to Ryan's mouth, certainly more than he'll ever admit out loud, but he can't help twisting back as Ryan licks him again and again, spreading him wider, pushing his thighs apart. He rocks against the sheets, rubbing his dick against them until Ryan stops what he's doing and stills him with a hand on his back. "I want to... you should let me do that." He sounds a little unsure, and that's fucking adorable so Brendon pushes up on all-fours and nods.

"Whatever you want, Ry," he says, pushing back again so Ryan will get the hint. He can hear the sounds of Ryan's mouth, wet and dirty, but not on _him_, not until one of his fingers pushes inside Brendon, working in and out. His tongue darts around Brendon's hole as he fingers him open, and any teasing Brendon wants to do is pushed right out of him.

Ryan keeps licking around his finger, one rough torturous drag after another, and God, his fingers are so _long_. It's not like Brendon ever forgets that, but it's like he remembers twice as hard when Ryan adds another, curling inside of Brendon and making him gasp and push back. Ryan laughs light and easy at Brendon's groan when he pulls away completely, and Brendon's all for making Ryan laugh, but that's just not fair.

It's okay, though, Ryan's fingers are back and they're slick with lube.

"Ryan, please, please," Brendon begs, dropping down to his elbows and sticking his ass high in the air, as Ryan slides in and out. It's nice, it's fucking _awesome_, but Brendon wants more.

"Please what?" Ryan asks.

"Jesus Christ, you asshole, fuck me already and make me scream your idiot name."

Ryan laughs again, and yeah, maybe Brendon's insults don't have the same impact they did a couple of years ago, but Brendon also wasn't getting his brains fucked out regularly then. It's an okay compromise.

The loss of Ryan's fingers isn't as bad this time because Ryan is behind him right away, slicked up and ready, condom already on, and Jesus, when did _Ryan Ross_ get coordinated enough to turn Brendon to jelly with one hand while rolling on a condom with another. Sheer fucking determination, and maybe Brendon loves that more about Ryan than even the tightly wound up thing or the mouth or the fingers.

Or, fuck fuck fuck, his _cock_. Brendon lets out a shameless moan when Ryan pushes inside him, and okay, _yes_, this is the best thing. He's dying, fucking dying as Ryan fucks him hard, the repeated "thank you" starting up again now that he has his mouth free. Ryan leans over, fits his chest against Brendon's sweat-covered back and reaches around to touch him, to slide his slick fist over and over Brendon's dick.

"_Ryan_, god, I --" Brendon groans and jerks his hips erratically, shooting all over his sheets. Fuck, that means laundry, Brendon thinks as Ryan strokes him through it before squeezing his hips and fucking him hard enough that the whole bed shakes with Ryan following after.

Ryan pulls out and collapses against Brendon's side, planting a sloppy kiss on Brendon's temple.

"God, it's good having time to relax," Ryan says, and yawns, hugging Brendon tight, tight, tighter.

Brendon grins. And the cycle starts all over again.


End file.
